i can finally breathe
by halcyon epochs
Summary: ginny, pansy, and the start of something beautiful


_For Angel - Ginny/Pansy with "I did this for you!"_

_Warning for swearing and a small sexuality crisis._

* * *

_That son of a bitch, _Ginny swore — at that moment, she thought fleetingly of her mother, who would have washed her mouth with soap to punish her for her foul language. Then, that had been accompanied by a feeling of shame and bitterness. Now, Ginny would much rather prefer that punishment rather than any of the ones the Carrows had in mind.

Sweat rolled down her cheeks like tears of desperation. Her wrists were burning from the manacles trussing her to the wall. The charm itself was nifty, but its use on a victim was awful. It was designed to calculate your wrist's circumference and accordingly squeeze so tightly that blood flow was severed in that limb. It was just Ginny's wrists for now, but Amycus had promised to return later to add them to her ankles, a grisly look on his face.

Ginny knew that time was slipping through her fingers. A lot of time had passed since Amycus had left her. She needed to escape, but she was at a significant disadvantage — Amycus hadn't confiscated her wand, but it was stowed in her back pocket of her jeans, just out of reach of her fingers*. And the DA's coin was stuffed in a sock in her trunk back in her dormitory, so she couldn't alert them.

So Ginny had few options left to her: wait it out and possibly die from blood deprivation, or hope that a brave ally would miraculously pass by and free her.

Astonishingly, the latter happened first. But her savior came in the form she would never expect.

* * *

Pansy wasn't supposed to be out — even though she wasn't one of those so-called "rebels", it was still past curfew, and Slytherin or no, the Carrows would punish her, even if it might be slightly less harsh.

But then again, any punishment formulated in their deranged, twisted minds was too much, even by Pansy's standards.

There was a faint, strangled cry and she flinched. Looks like the Carrows _were _on the prowl, and she knew exactly which way they were headed: towards her.

_"You like that?" _Amycus's voice floated down the corridor, abrasive and amused. _"Crucio!"_

A sharp, ringing scream came more poignantly now. Pansy's stomach rolled unpleasantly and she forced herself to ignore the screams, sliding furtively against the wall. If she didn't move, she would be next. She had nothing to fear, being pureblood, but she didn't like looking at either of the Carrow's faces; it was like holding a filthy pig, repulsing and disgusting.

She turned into the corridor leading towards the DADA classroom and was faced by complete blackness. Before, there had been torches lining the walls; now, the walls were barren, with only a single lantern providing scant light.

_"Lumos," _she muttered, and light flared from the tip of her wand, illuminating the hallway. At the end of the hallway was another one of the Carrows' prisoners, a girl with vibrant red hair cascading down her back — she looked an awful lot like a Weasley —

Pansy stifled a gasp as she recognized the girl; she was indeed a Weasley. It was the youngest one, a leader of the band of the rebels. Pansy had seen her a lot last year, parading around with Potter on her arm — what was her name? Ginny?

"I'm — strangle — fucking _arseholes,_" Weasley swore, and Pansy was impressed — she hadn't pegged her for a pottymouth, more of a goody two—shoes like Granger, but apparently she was more than capable of swearing.

"Weasley?" she ventured, stepping closer to the struggling redhead. Her head snapped up and her eyes narrowed.

"Parkinson? What are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same," Pansy snapped. "Only a foolhardy person like you would be stupid enough to get caught by the Carrows."

Weasley scowled. "Then you must have a death wish."

"I think that's you, actually," she shot back. "Seeing that you're the one all chained up."

"For your information, I was out for a good reason," Weasley returned. "Nothing that I'd tell a _snake, _though."

"I wouldn't be so insolent, Weasley," Pansy said sweetly, "seeing as you don't have Potter as a shield."

Her face colored red. "Are you implying that I'm _weak?"_

"Chained," Pansy reminded her, "wandless, helpless."

"As a matter-of-fact, I—"

"Save your excuses," she interjected, "at least, until after I save your sorry excuse of an arse."

Weasley opened her mouth to retort, seemingly digested her words, and promptly shut it.

"No need to thank me," Pansy added.

_That _jab seemed to be the catalyst. "I'll thank you _after _you save my sorry excuse of an arse," Weasley mimicked.

Pansy huffed, rolled her eyes, but as much she wanted to reply, they had already wasted valuable time. Amycus would be growing bored with his toy.

"Stay still," she ordered, and Weasley muttered something under her breath that sounded like _"like I could do anything else," _but Pansy chose to ignore it.

_"Relashio," _she tried. The cuffs didn't release.

"They're locked and bastard has the key," Weasley said waspishly.

_"Alohomora," _Pansy said, and there was a soft _click _as the cuffs opened and the chains withdrew. A look of pure relief overcame Weasley's face, but she didn't have a chance to say anything before Pansy seized her wrist and dragged her into an alcove.

_"Oi!" _Weasley yelped. "It's tender there — _what do you think you're bloody doing?"_

"Do you _want _to be chained up again?" Pansy knocked three times on the portrait and it swung open. Wordlessly, she shoved Weasley first into the passageway beyond and followed her in, shutting the portrait behind her.

For once, Weasley shut her mouth and didn't ask any questions. Pansy pushed past her, slightly hunched over because of the height of the tunnel. The other girl, it seemed, had no such problem, which made Pansy grit her teeth.

"This doesn't make us friends, by the way," she informed the Weasel, who didn't deign to retort.

"Why did you do it?" she asked instead.

"Because..." Pansy hesitated. "Because I hate the Carrows," she said. "I hate how they treat us like we're below them. This isn't a reform, this is a joint dictatorship. It's..." she searched for a word, appalled at herself for admitting her weakness to a _Weasley._ "It's scary."

"But you're pureblood. You're safe. You have no reason to be afraid of them."

Pansy paused, spinning around to face her. "Are _you _afraid of them?"

"Hell yes," Weasley admitted without missing a beat, brown eyes wide. She was quite pretty, Pansy noted, even when looking peaky. "Mum almost didn't send me, because she and I were both afraid - if the Death Eaters weren't threatening my family, I wouldn't have come. Because in these walls, under _their _regime, I'm a blood traitor. And it's not like I have Harry or my brothers to back me up, because they're all gone, and so's Luna, and -"

Pansy shushed her incessant - yet startlingly acute - rambling. "I know," she said, surprised at the sympathy rising within her. "Let's go."

They were silent for the rest of the journey, which took about two minutes. Pansy emerged first, scanning the perimeter, before crawling out. Ginny walked out after her.

"The Gryffindor common room is down that way," Pansy said. "You think you'll be able to handle the treacherous walk alone?"

"Oh stuff it, Parkinson," Weasley snapped, slightly red in the face. "But...thanks for rescuing me." She said it with a bit of effort as if it were costing her some of her pride.

"Don't mention it," Pansy muttered.

"No really," she continued as if she were hellbent on putting Pansy on some sort of pedestal. "You risked your own neck to save mine. That's really..._Gryffindor _of you."

Instinctively, anger flared up at the mention of the rival house, but it ebbed away as she realized it was a genuine compliment. Weasley seldom dished out praise to Slytherins, so from her it meant a lot.

"...Normally, I'd hex you for a remark like that," she said finally, "but for now, I'll take it. But I have a rep to maintain, don't forget."

Ginny laughed softly.

* * *

Pansy didn't see Ginny after that. Not one glimpse.

* * *

The gala to celebrate the defeat of Voldemort is a grand affair. Ginny went with Hermione and Luna to Diagon Alley to purchase a dress and that's where she spots a familiar face.

Pansy didn't look good, and that was an overstatement. The end of the war hadn't been kind to her, as joyous of a celebration it was. While the Parkinsons weren't openly supportive of Voldemort, there was no mistaking their hatred of Muggleborns and blood traitors.

But Ginny remembered the girl who had rescued her that day, the girl who had put aside the house rivalries and her prejudices to save her. The girl who put on a fake facade in front of everyone else, but had opened her heart - even just a little bit - to someone who she was supposed to despise.

Ginny remembered that girl.

"Hey, I forgot one of my bags at Madam Malkin's," she said to Hermione and Luna. "I'll be back in a few."

Hermione didn't question her, just nodded, and Luna said faintly, "Don't let the Wrackspurts get you again!"

Ginny stifled a laugh as she hurried away. Luna adamantly refused to let go of the theories her father had instilled in her from birth, but Ginny didn't care. Luna was her friend.

"Hi," she said breathlessly as she fell into step beside Pansy. Pansy's head jerked up and she gave Ginny an incredulous look.

_"Weasley?"_

"Ginny," she corrected. "My name is Ginny. My brothers are Weasley. I'm not my brothers."

Pansy recovered, though her posture remained stiff. "We can't be seen together," she said. "You're a hero, I'm a villain, people will talk—"

"So?" Ginny waved her hand dismissively. "Let them. We're exemplifying the idea of unity after the war. If people can't learn to live with the times, fuck them."

Pansy appraised her coolly. her dark eyes unreadable. "What do you want?"

"I want to talk."

"We aren't friends."

"We don't have to be."

"I'm not —"

"Merlin!" Ginny rounded on her. "What is your bloody problem? I just want to talk!"

"Because — because —" Pansy struggled for words. "— _Because you're too bloody perfect!"_

Ginny reeled back, shock flooding through her as Pansy's eyes flashed. _"What?!"_

"Yeah, that's right!" Pansy continued, gaining momentum from Ginny's speechlessness. "You have the perfect friends, you have the _Chosen One _hanging on your arm, your family is the _epitome _of goodness and heroism — your life is _too _perfect!"

Ginny gawked her at her, wincing at her brittle tone — but everything she had just said was unjustified.

"Now _wait a second." _Ginny hurried to catch up with her, anger threatening to burst. "That's the most _bullshit_ I've heard in my life, and my brother is George Weasley." She caught her breath. "You think I'm perfect? Think again."

Pansy said nothing, pursing her lips.

"I didn't _choose _to become a hero. I grew up poor, even by Muggle standards. Everything was a constant struggle. Living with six older brothers was difficult and we were always tight when it came to money, even with Dad's Ministry job."

Pansy's lips were no longer pursed, meaning the barriers were collapsing. One more push and they would cave.

"You probably remember what happened with the Chamber of Secrets," Ginny continued. A familiar chill settled over her heart as she traveled into the past, recalled what had happened that year. "Even after Harry saved me and cleared, people still condemned me. People saw me as a _villain._"

"I remember." Pansy stepped over a puddle. "But that wasn't your fault. You weren't yourself."

"I know. Even though people forgave me for writing messages on the wall in blood, they didn't necessarily forget that I had been associated with a dark wizard. But they didn't know how it felt to be controlled by him." Ginny shuddered, a fresh wave of fear rolling over her, even though there was nothing to be afraid of now. "It was like having amnesia, but worse. And then there were the nightmares. His voice haunted my dreams during and after the ordeal." She halted, staring at the ground, lost in the past.

She had only admitted to one other person — Harry, who had his own demons to battle. No one else knew.

But Harry and Pansy had seen her vulnerability. How weak she was under power. There were no boundaries between them, now.

"Hey." Pansy's voice was unusually gentle, her dark eyes pinning Ginny with — was that _affection?_ "You rose from that, didn't you? And he fell. You're a better person now because of that."

Ginny stared, but not at the ground. Pansy was just full of surprises today — she had gone from insult to praise, which was rare.

"I — thank you," she said faintly.

And she couldn't tell, but maybe, with the way Pansy was looking at her, her heart swelled, which (clumsily) pushed her into her next words.

"H-Hey," she said, "I have to go, but maybe we could c-catch up in the Three Broomsticks or something? Over a butterbeer. Whenever you're free."

_Why was she so nervous?_

Pansy appeared conflicted, eyes swimming with a medley of emotions, until she said, "Sure, sounds good. I'm free tomorrow."

"Yeah, sounds good," Ginny managed.

* * *

Pansy was at a loss. She had a closet the size of her room (very spacious) and clothes to fill her family's mansion from top to bottom. She could wear virtually anything, and yet, nothing seemed good enough.

Too bright. Too dull. Too conservative. Too suggestive. Too short. Too long.

_Why was this so bloody difficult?_

Pansy tossed the last rejected garment on her bed - a green blouse - and sighed irritably. It seemed her tastes had diminished since the end of the war, since she hadn't been out in public, which in turn eliminated the need to dress formally.

_But really? An outing with Ginny Weasley? She was fussing over that?_

"Fetch me my red sundress," she ordered of Gypsy, the family's house-elf. "And the tan boots."

"Right away, Mistress Parkinson," Gypsy squeaked and hurried into the closet.

In the end, after much deliberation, she decided on a forest green halter dress with dark brown heels. It was pretty, stylish, and simple.

Pansy hadn't felt this confident in months, but here she was, preparing to _meet Ginny Weasley. _A girl who had aided in the crumbling of Pansy's world.

Pansy smiled.

* * *

The Three Broomsticks was packed. Chatter filled the air as Ginny pushed through the crowd, cursing her height — why did she have to get the short end of the stick (pun unintended)? Even in heels, she still couldn't see over the heads of tall people.

(Beanstalks, she thought contemptuously. Bloody _beanstalks, _the lot of them.)

Ginny finally staggered upon an empty booth, all the way in the back and squeezed in the corner — less than ideal, but she really couldn't complain, with her feet aching like mad.

At least Pansy was taller.

Ginny slid into the booth, wiggled off her heels, and stretched out her toes, sighing with relief. It was unladylike, she could practically hear her mother scolding her. _Ginevra Weasley, you put your shoes on right now!_

She smiled at the thought, at the very moment Pansy arrived.

"What're you smiling about?"

"Nothing." Ginny shook her head dismissively. "I'm glad you could make it."

Pansy sat down across from Ginny, evidently not having noticed the lack of shoes on her feet. Ginny kept it that way. Who was Pansy to judge?

"Of course." Pansy smiled and Ginny felt her stomach lurch slightly, but not unpleasantly.

_Since when does she make me feel like that?_

"So," she said, trying to control her heartbeat, "how've you been?"

"A wreck." Pansy grimaced wryly. "I'm only just getting back on my feet. Voldemort's downfall wasn't exactly easy on my family's reputation. They were accused of being sympathizers and were almost sent to Azkaban."

"That's awful," Ginny said, covering her mouth.

"I mean, it had to happen one way or another." Pansy met her eyes, a resigned look in the dark depths. "But I'm okay. Mostly."

Ginny's breath hitched as Pansy leaned closer. They were still far apart, but still — she was strangely tempted to close the gap.

"I'm glad to hear that," she muttered, leaning back as far as possible.

She wasn't supposed to be this attracted to Pansy. Hell, she didn't _know _if she was even straight. She'd struggled with that kind of turmoil for years, but it always had slid into the number two priority slot, behind her feelings for Harry.

But she didn't like Harry that way anymore. She was allowed to venture into new possibilities. New horizons. Perhaps one that had Pansy waiting for her.

But was Pansy ready? Moreover, did she feel the same way?

"— but really, you didn't have to set this up," Pansy was saying and Ginny started. "I mean, if you're just here to give your sympathies to me and that's it —"

"Wait a minute." Ginny rose to her feet, bare as they were. "I did this for _you! _I did this because I really wanted to meet with you! Yes, I wanted to give you my sympathies, but I was genuinely interested in catching up with you! Because you're a really fascinating person and I think I fancy you and that's _really unfair _of you to say. I ought to — _mmph!"_

Because Pansy had cut her off with her lips. On Ginny's lips. Somehow, she'd leaned over the table and kissed her.

_What the — _

(She was going to have a huge crisis tomorrow.)

"Thanks," she said, after pulling away, and Ginny was utterly fucked.

(With a capital F.)

(But she had more pressing matters.)

* * *

_3000 words_

_Assignment 3, Flying Lessons, __**Task #8 - Shooting Star:**_ _Write about something taking a long time to do (a relationship)_


End file.
